The Last Masterpiece
by PhoenixDragonDreamer
Summary: A pointed reminder of the darkest time of his lives.


**Warnings:** Character Study, Introspection, Mentions of the Time War  
 **A/N:** Written for **who_contest** 's **Prompt:** **Label**. This was one fiction that I didn't have pre-planned out (of a sort). Nor did I plan to actually write it out _tonight_ ; but it seems the Muse demands and I thusly bend to Her whims. *Grins* I was playing with another idea altogether, when this struck me out of the blue, so I went with my gut and wrote it out. It was a struggle to keep to the word-count (and a lot was cut along the way), but hopefully it hasn't suffered too much under my heavy hand. As per usual, this fic is mostly unbeta'd and written in one go, so please forgive any mistakes and/or blatant vagueness. And (as always), I apologize for any repetition, misspellings, sentence fails, grammatical oh-noes and general horridness. Unbeta'd fic is overly-thinky/wandery/blithery and unbeta'd.  
 **Disclaimer(s):** _I do not own the scrumptious Doctor or his lovely companions. That honor goes to the BBC and (for now) the fantastic S. Moffat. The only thing that belongs to me is this fiction - and I am making no profit. Only playing about!_

* * *

It was the last artwork to come out of Gallifrey – and the title said it all:

' _Gallifrey Falls'._

Apt. Succinct. A pointed reminder of the darkest time of his lives.

He was more than happy to be rid of it.

Humans were pack-rats. They especially loved to collect things that they didn't understand (though they always tried to understand, bless them). He let them have it because he knew it would be safe – and maybe they would heed the warning within: _This is what happens when you allow your People to wage a War they cannot win._

Granted, it wasn't entirely his fault. Gallifrey was a bloodthirsty race that had fallen asleep to the lullaby of its bygone days of destruction. When they warned in hushed voices (in those vaulted Academy Halls) of machines and ideas that breed endless damage that cannot be undone; they were also celebrating their devastation over the lesser species of the universe.

Eventually they had withdrawn. Wrapped themselves in their triumph and treated their victories as a given, even as they warned about the dangers of interference and tsked over the fallen enemies they had crushed beneath their boots. They had gone up against the Time Lords and lost (of course), and thusly learned their lesson in the hardest of ways.

Then came the Daleks.

He had known the artist who captured this; the last work of the War – and the most horrifying – even as it was a creation, not a dismantling. It was a vision and an instant in the most terrible hour of his people. He hadn't been a Time Lord (though he claimed to have come from one of the Great Houses). He had been a Gallifreyian. One of the few left that his people hadn't destroyed. They took a perverse pride in him. Like he was their addle-pated bastard child that must be reared properly. Appalling and disgusting – but he knew of this backward thinking and found ways to get his own back. A lot like Da Vinci, another artistic genius who was oppressed by those who knew less about themselves than he did.

Also like Da Vinci, this artist was obsessed with his work – yet unlike him, he would take time for simpler things.

He loved Earth scones and tea. He liked to walk near the markers of the Death Zone, just to remind himself that he was alive. He had been a good friend and ally. One of the few that still welcomed him home when he was a pariah amongst his own people.

On the back of the painting, the words 'No More' had been scrawled in a hasty, looping script. The artist had died (unnamed, unnoticed outside the Citadel) before he could make his mark upon it. Certainly _he_ had not put those words there. They had just appeared one day on the canvas backing; no explanation, no one around who could fathom the meaning of it.

The Time Lord who took it to Earth didn't even know.

Yet centuries later, that same Time Lord would guard it, keep it safe, keep its secret. He knew who put it there, though he would never tell.

The Caretaker shined the plaque beneath his friend's greatest masterpiece, the title saying everything that he could not –

' _Gallifrey Falls…No More_ '.


End file.
